


Our Story

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream SMP finale, Emotional Manipulation, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, that shit hurted, the stream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In his last life, he stood before them, desperate, pleading, bargaining.(or: The Dream SMP Finale.)
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 118





	Our Story

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: slight suicidal thoughts, little bit of dissociation i think, manipulation. leave if you're not comfortable with that stuff, this isn't meant to be hurtful to anyone. much love <3

They had been joking around. Because after all, they were just kids. Teenagers thrown into a war that wasn’t theirs, not really, not in the very end. They had started it, with an uprising that was mocked and laughed at. They had fought in it, and what a fight it had been. They had been hurt and destroyed, war and the pain it brought chipping at their armor, tearing it off piece by piece until there was nothing left.

But they had still been joking around. Practicing their water jumps, talking about how they weren’t going to give into their optimism, not this time, not ever again.

Tommy was staring into Dream’s face, and he couldn’t remember how he laughed just minutes before, he couldn’t imagine being happy ever again. Something dark, something desperate rushed his heart, hearing the low timbre of Dream’s voice talk to him softly, calling out to him, calling him his friend.

He looked at Tubbo and tried to lose himself in his baby blue eyes, tried to drown himself in them, because even drowning would be better than the feeling in his chest that made him want to scream at Dream, to curse him until his voice grew hoarse, to fall onto his knees before him and apologize, make him not mad, make him love him again. Make Dream pet his hair just the way Wilbur used to, when they were children. It had been a long time since Wilbur had pet his hair.

Tommy knew that Dream was bad, but his heart hurt. Because of Dream, for Dream. He hated Dream, but something in him would always belong to him. A part of his heart, forever darkened by pain, by a love so twisted and cruel it would never leave him. It would haunt him forever, singing after him with a echoing voice, crawling its way into his nightmares, into his thoughts. He tried to rip loose, but Dream would always have a hold on him, always. Even if he died, even if they got his discs back.

Even if he and Tubbo went off to find Phil, if they went to Technoblade’s house. If Ghostbur showed up and threw blue at them, if Ranboo would shyly walk up to them, at the awkward point where Phil had accepted him into the family but they didn’t really know each other yet. If they started slowly getting him to open up, sitting and watching Techno’s bees. If the sun set, and it started snowing, if they laughed like they hadn’t lived through a war, like Wilbur’s voice hadn’t once lacked the echo it carried now. If Tommy laughed like Dream had never hurt him, if he shoved everything that had changed him back into the last, most hidden crevices of his heart, something in him would still belong to Dream.

 _Tubbo or the discs_ , he said.

_Ten._

Tommy looked at Tubbo, so lost, Dream’s voice enveloping him and running across his skin softly, making him shiver with revulsion and love.

_Nine._

Tubbo was looking from him to Dream and back again. Tommy could see the fear in his eyes, the set of his mouth, creases forming in his forehead.

_Eight._

Dream stepped closer, Tommy fought back the urge to run into his arms, to hug him, to squeeze his ribs until they cracked, until he stopped breathing.

_Seven._

Tubbo reached out for him, desperation flooding into the eyes he so desperately tried to keep dull. Tommy grasped his hand, anchoring himself to his friend, his friend, this was a real friend, this was his best friend. Dream meant nothing.

_Six._

His hands were sweaty, the disc almost slipping out of his hand. He couldn’t help the amusement that rushed over the pain and the panic coursing through him like a soft breeze. How funny would it be if he just dropped it to the ground? If this was how he lost? Was he going insane?

_Five._

He was hesitating, but he knew.

_Four._

He knew he was going to give Dream his disc.

_Three._

Because what else was there to do?

_Two._

He ran over to the ender chest, because he loved his discs, he loved Tubbo, he loved Dream and he hated them all for a split second.

_One._

He threw the disc at Dream’s feet.

_Throw your stuff in the hole._

And he did, his body recoiling, some part of his heart rejoicing at listening to Dream, at doing what he said. Would he finally be happy with him? Tubbo, where was Tubbo, he needed to look at Tubbo, there he was, and the fear in his best friend’s eyes chased away the suffocation of Dream’s words and the thoughts that followed them.

Dream was bad.

Dream was bad.

Dream was bad.

With every item he threw into the hole, with every scrap of armor he removed, every strap he unbuckled, every glance back at Tubbo, every scorn-filled word that chilled him to his bones, that made him so, so afraid, he repeated the words in his head. The words that had torn him from exile, the words that had saved him.

Dream was bad.

_Thank you._

Dream thanked him. He put his items in the hole, and Dream was happy with him. Dream threatened to kill Tubbo, Dream would kill Tubbo. Dream would kill his best friend, without a second thought, without hesitation, without mercy.

Dream was bad. 

They followed Dream, following him down the water, stepping onto a platform, because they were powerless. Maybe they had been all along, and Tommy couldn’t stop the shame that flooded him at the thought. Why did they ever think they could beat Dream? How could they laugh before going to beat Dream? They should’ve talked about a strategy, they should’ve planned, they should’ve ran and never looked back.

And he had dragged Tubbo into this. Tubbo was here with him, and he would die because of him.

_You’re attached, Tommy._

Of course he was. He couldn’t help it, when there was so much to love, so much to say, so much oppression that could be prevented. Loving came easily. Fighting was exhausting, hating was so, so difficult, war was the most terrible thing he had ever been through, but loving was easy.

He loved Phil, he loved Tubbo. He loved Dream too, because he couldn’t help it. He loved his discs, his house, L’Manburg, Ghostbur following him around and singing to him, and even Techno, even though he hurt Tubbo, even though he would betray them all for his ideals, even though he was led by chaos and voices that demanded blood.

He saw Dream’s trophy room, and he blinked rapidly, not wanting to let Dream see the tears pooling in his eyes, because he was pathetic, because crying was pathetic. Dream had told him so.

Dream was bad.

_Skeppy. The Axe of Peace. Carl. Bedrock. Henry._

_Friend._

He sunk his hand into Friend’s blue wool, grasping onto something that was real, feeling like he’d been torn from his body, like he was out of control. He was out of control, he had no armor, Dream would kill Tubbo and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. Friend let out a small noise of protest as Tommy tugged harder, and he loosened his grasp.

_You are attached, and I have lost everything to gain everything._

Tommy was the one who would lose his best friend, but even through the fear clouding his mind, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he couldn’t regret his ‘attachments’, because who would he be without them?

He would be like Dream.

_Say your goodbyes._

He couldn’t. How could he ever be able to say goodbye to his best friend? His best friend, who was about to die because of him.

He couldn’t say goodbye, because until he cradled Tubbo’s broken and bruised body in his hands, watched him take his last breaths, watched the smile he couldn’t live without slip from his face in a last, silent whisper, he couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t say goodbye until Tubbo was gone, because their desperate optimism would carry them into their graves, it would be with them until their last moments.

We already said goodbye, Tubbo said, and Tommy didn’t remember. Everything was blurry, he couldn’t focus. Hadn't they been laughing? How could they have been laughing, had that really happened?

_Don't you want to say goodbye to your best friend?_

He hugged Tubbo to his chest, both of them cowering on the floor, as Dream inched closer to them. He pet the ends of Tubbo’s coarse hair that peeked out from under his helmet, and waited for the swing of the blade as something in him broke. It’s okay, Tommy, it’s okay, Tubbo whispered, his voice trembling against Tommy's cheek.

It’s okay.

Dream was terrible. Dream was evil, Dream didn’t deserve his love. Tubbo shook against him and Tommy held him tighter, as though they were kids caught in a snowstorm, as though he could warm Tubbo, as though he could thaw the freezing cold of impending death around them.

Dream got closer, and the nether portal crackled. You should have paid me more, someone said.

Tommy looked up, and saw his friends, his enemies, strangers pour into the dark cavern from the portal. He shivered around Tubbo as he let out a bark of hollow laughter that echoed off the stone walls. He would cry if he could remember how to. They came for them, they came to protect them. They stood between Dream and the shivering boys, _the children_ , because remember, these are children lying on the floor, defeated and manpulated and and discarded, cowering and scared and saved. A wall of enchanted netherite, protection, they were safe, safe, safe. Dream had almost broken them, but he had miscalculated.

Someone gave Tommy armor, and he threw it to Tubbo, because of course he did. Dream was bad, and he had to protect Tubbo.

_Put your stuff in the hole._

Dream was standing before them, without his armor, no longer invincible, his skin on full display, and how had they ever been scared of him?

Tommy took the axe of peace and hacked away at him until he was gone. This was right. Dream didn’t deserve this life, nor the one that Tommy took from him as soon as he returned.

In his last life, he stood before them, desperate, pleading, bargaining.

_I can bring Ghostbur back to life._

And just like that, Dream’s voice wormed his way through his anger, breaking all his defenses, making him stop in his tracks. But for the first time since he could remember, it wasn’t because he was scared. It wasn’t because he wanted to obey Dream, the love he held for his brother looming over everything he had ever and would ever feel for Dream.

He couldn’t kill him, not if he could bring Wilbur back, so he let Sam take him to the prison he himself had created. But not before screaming and cursing at him, joined by Tubbo, the knot in his heartstrings untangling itself as he heard Tubbo yelling triumphantly, so loud and so alive.

How could he ever have loved Dream?

_Remember, Tommy, we were friends._

Tommy glared back at the man before him, gentle flames grasping at the bridges that connected him to Dream.

Dream’s eyes were hollow as they always were, but somewhere deep, deep down, there was a sadness swimming in a pool of his reckless murders and manipulative words, and Tommy was reminded that even Dream had loved once.

He had lived in a house with his friends once, many moons ago, flirting with a boy who permanently wore goggles and admiring the blush that would paint his cheeks. Running through woods chased by his friends, laughter and empty threats slipping through the trees. Decorating the balconies of the community house, backing up onto the path and smiling as he admired his work.

Tommy couldn’t feel bad, because if he had loved and given up everything he had willingly, given up shrill laughter and late nights sat around telling bad jokes, it was even worse than Dream feeling nothing at all. To him, there was something more important, and Tommy knew he would never comprehend what went on inside Dream’s head.

He sat with his best friend under a starry night sky, listening to his discs, his heart lighter than it had been in so, so long. He remembered how to laugh again, and oh how wonderful it felt. He didn’t have to rely on anyone to live and to tell his story, because he would do it himself. Him and Tubbo, they would tell the world their story and destroy everything Dream had built, tear down his throne and his power with weary arms, just like that.

Just like that.

He smiled at Tubbo, his best friend’s blue eyes shining with hope and smiling back at him. Tommy’s own eyes filled with tears as something warm pricked at his chest, overwhelming him in its novelty.

Happiness.

He had spent so long running and fearing and hiding his own fear behind pride and rude words, he didn’t think he’d ever feel happy again. Didn’t think the memories of the wars, the memories of Dream would ever let him be happy again, and he’d made his peace with it as he brought down his sword on an enemy for the first time. He was giving up his happiness for something greater than himself.

He remembered being exiled for the first time, banished from the country he and his brother had built with their own bare hands, every stone in its crude walls a labor of their love. He remembered his father standing over his brother’s body, silent, his son’s blood dripping from his sword.

Cruel words thrown at him like it was nothing, like he felt nothing, Dream blowing up his base, the picture of Tubbo and him in shreds on the floor. Withers, L’Manburg being destroyed again, just as it had been rebuilt and haunted by Wilbur’s ghost.

He remembered lava, its ember glow haunted his dreams. He remembered how beautiful it was, how it looked so warm, how it would embrace him, trust him, love him if he would only jump, jump, jump.

But all it took was a smile, and in that moment, he was happy. He knew the memories would return, he knew he’d wake up many more times shivering and screaming and crying, not remembering why.

He knew he had a long way to go and that Dream would never truly be gone, but Tubbo was here. Tubbo was here and Tubbo was safe, and that’s all that mattered.

Tommy fell into his arms, tears soaking his best friend’s shirt, nonsensical words murmured into his hair. I’m here, you’re safe, you’re okay, he can’t hurt you anymore, and Tommy believed him.

They were just children that had been hurt, but they knew how to fight, how to survive.

So they were going to survive, and they would tell their own story. They would scream it out into the world, and if nobody listened, they would make themselves heard.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @BitterCr0wn on twt, come talk to me if you want, i'd love to be friends <3
> 
> i love all of you, i hope you're feeling alright after the stream. please take care of yourselves and stay safe <3


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